Billy Vunipola is not used to failure. When you are twice the size of other kids growing up you generally finish first, not second. It explains why he found sleep impossible last Saturday night having returned to London by train after Saracens’ Heineken Cup final loss to Toulon in Cardiff. “I was upset because I felt I couldn’t do enough to help my team win. I felt powerless … I’ve never felt like that on a rugby pitch.”
For the young colossus, the final whistle also brought no relief. Thousands of television viewers saw Jonny Wilkinson sportingly try to console the 21-year-old, only for Vunipola to march down the tunnel without a backward glance, having told club officials he did not want to collect his losers’ medal. “I know I’ve got to be more mature but I’d never been in a final before. I’d never got to the stage where I could have won something. It’s upsetting to get that close and it’s hard to take. It was a good send-off for Jonny Wilkinson but you play rugby to win. You don’t play rugby for charity.”
Mix this potent swirl of emotions together – the sleeplessness, the frustration, the regret – and Vunipola’s fervent desire to make amends in Saturday’s Aviva Premiership final against Northampton is almost tangible. “I couldn’t sleep because I was rattling through what I could have done better and what I did wrong. I can hardly sleep when we lose anyway.” Two high-profile final defeats inside eight days followed by a 24-hour flight to New Zealand on Monday? Let’s just say the Sydney-born Billy might not be the happiest of long-haul neighbours.
But wait. Could it just be that last Saturday proves an epiphany for Billy the kid, the jolt which transforms him into the world’s most destructive No8? Everyone makes mistakes; the lessons learned are the key. This self-realisation seems to have hit Vunipola like a speeding truck. “You always have to go though hardship to get to the top and I’ve learned to accept that now.”
The Wilkinson episode also taught him plenty. “It’s not a moment I look back at and think: ‘Who cares?’ It’s one I regret but I didn’t go out there to snub anyone, I just didn’t know who it was tapping me on the back.
“I was upset walking through the tunnel and I thought it was Ed Griffiths [the Saracens chief executive]. He’d told me to come back and get my medal but I’d told him we don’t play to get losers’ medals. I wanted to go into the changing room, let out what was inside me and come back out. I just couldn’t stay on the pitch and watch them celebrate in front of my face.
“It was the first time I’ve ever experienced a year of building up to one moment and then losing it all at once. That’s what upset me … that it could just vanish like that. It’s tough to take but I’ve got to learn to take it.”
Beneath a black baseball cap his dark eyes indicate a man unwilling to contemplate further disappointment on Saturday. He collected his medal in the end and apologised to Wilkinson, but meekness will be absent at Twickenham. “Last week is done with … we’ve a chance to finish on a high and I believe we can do that.” It matters not that England team-mates such as Northampton’s Tom Wood or Courtney Lawes will soon be New Zealand tour colleagues. “It’s the same for them. They’re going to try and smash me, it’s a professional game. If you’re holding back you’re letting your team-mates and your friends down. God willing, I’ll come out unscathed.”
As he speaks with a gnarled warrior’s slow deliberation, it is easy to forget the steepness of his senior career graph. This time 12 months ago only his brother Mako had been capped and Billy had yet to play for Saracens, let alone emerged as England’s first-choice battering ram. Barely six years have elapsed since he was a 15-year-old in trainers playing men’s rugby for Burnham-on-Sea.
When he subsequently joined Harrow School on a scholarship, the queue of would-be tacklers was far outnumbered by those running in the opposite direction. “It was good fun,” he chortles, recalling the one-sided games of human skittles which seldom received his full attention.
“I know it’s bad to say but I couldn’t really get my head into the games because I was up against teams who weren’t very good. They were quite small.” Billy, though, was never a one-dimensional flat-track bully. He sang in the choir, studied photography and enjoyed mixing with kids from different backgrounds.
“I’m used to different traditions with the Tongan culture and to learn new ones was very interesting. I’m really happy I did it.” He is hoping his 13-year-old cousin, Manu, will follow suit, although there is one glaring drawback. “I don’t know how but he’s a fly-half. He’s a good little player, though.”
Which begs the million-dollar question: what heights will big Billy scale by the time little Manu turns 21? A personal view is that Vunipola is destined to become a world-beater, a punishing ball-carrier to match anyone on the planet. All he needs is an encouraging coach or two and a sufficiently strong sense of purpose to keep him out of London’s fast food restaurants. He already has a dry sense of humour. Ask him if he envisages emulating the retiring Steve Borthwick by playing professionally for 16 years and he will tell you the prospect of 16 pre-seasons worries him more.
A big-hearted character also lurks within the incredible hulk; he is looking forward to visiting his grandmother in Tonga this summer and mixing with the local kids to whom he is a distant hero. “Back home, if there are four games in one day, four different people will wear the same pair of boots. We’re put here for a purpose and I believe one of those is to help people. If we came here and neglected what got us here in the first place it would reflect badly on us. It’s very humbling to have people supporting you miles and miles away who look out for you and get up early in the morning just to watch a standard Premiership game. Loads were watching last week’s final back home.”
Ironically, he also empathises with those islanders who complain about richer nations systematically draining them of talent.
“They take the good players, have the facilities to make them better and utilise that talent. Maybe the Fijians, the Tongans and the Samoans don’t think they’re giving back as much as they’re getting. There’s definitely a frustration there but it’s none of my business.”
Billy the kid is growing up fast. Whether or not Saracens win any silverware this season, they have a twinkling star in their midst.
